


Like A Stranger

by deankeptthecoat



Series: Destiel Oneshots [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, human!Cas, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deankeptthecoat/pseuds/deankeptthecoat
Summary: Dean is 'celebrating' his first Valentine's Day since his girlfriend, Lisa, broke up with him. Out of pure spite to the concept of love, he goes to a local flower shop to buy himself some flowers.





	Like A Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my pal @skittles-rainbow-cat on Tumblr. I'll probably be posting on here more frequently since Tumblr might die (Riperoni).
> 
> Anyway I wrote fluff. For once. Damn, right?

Dean walked into the store. The bell on the door jingled as he walked through bringing with it a flood of aromas and warmth. There was a symphony of flowery smells in the room. The assortment of colors added to it and brought it all to life. He knew nothing about flowers, but anytime Dean stopped here he felt calm. It was always peaceful and cozy, like he was in a large, sunny garden instead of a small flower shop in Indiana. Today whoever organized the flowers had added a few more pinks to the mix as well as a few Party City decorations in the spirit of Valentine’s Day. There were two entire stands dedicated to Valentine’s Day themed bouquets. The combinations of pinks and whites looked like it had freshly snowed in the store, a light cover of snow powdering all the flowers but not harming them. A little sign was hung above both displays.  _ Share with someone you love _ , they read, decorated with hearts and drawings of roses.

Nice try, tiny sign. That’s not what Dean was there for. Quite the opposite.

The check out was in the back, unoccupied. The usual cashiers weren’t there. When Dean would stop in here previously, the register would be occupied by one of two people. A college aged girl with a few too many piercings named Meg, who was always flirty and a bit rude, and clearly only there to pay rent, but who still always gave Dean was he was looking for, or a younger blonde boy named Jack who Dean had never seen without a smile on. He messed up the bouquets sometimes, but he couldn’t have been older than 15 and was always so cheerful and polite that there was no way to be angry at him. Dean always tipped him a bit extra.

But today, no one was there. All there was was the rainbow of petals and the soft hum of the radio.

The sign had said open, though, so there was bound to be someone working. Dean decided to walk around and look at the displays until he found an employee.

He wandered over to one of the shelves near the window. The signs said the bouquets were mostly hydrangeas with a few asters and roses in there. All the flowers were purple. Immediately to Dean’s right there was a sidewalk covered in slush, dirtied from people walking all over it. One was more cheerful than the other. Another one of the bouquets was lilacs and stocks. There were a few sweet peas in the mix for accent. At least that’s what the sign said.

The front side of the store was mostly pre-made bouquets. They were all in perfect condition; they were new. Whoever made these must spend all their time on them. Definitely a pain in the ass if you have a pollen allergy. Once you walked a few feet towards the back, you got to the potted plants. They weren’t delicately prepared like the displays in the front but they were well kept and beautiful all the same. There was a wider assortment here. In different seasons, the front was decorated more with colors to match, like a fashion magazine for florists. In the back, it was whatever was in season and then some. There was always a section of cacti and succulents. Dean considered buying some every time he visited, but he always told himself, “Next time.”

As he walked across to the orchids and lilies section (not that he had any intention of buying them; if he was unsure of his ability to keep a damn cactus alive, what made him think he could support an orchid) the song playing softly on the radios changed. It had just been playing Beyonce’s  _ Love On Top _ , and Dean was a bit ashamed to admit he’d been humming along. He expected another happy, lovey-dovey song to come on and rub his loneliness into his face some more. Instead, the radio started the intro to  _ Somebody That I Used To Know _ .

That was probably worse than anything lovey-dovey.

First the sign by the flower display encouraging him to share a bouquet with the lover he didn’t have, and now this. His Valentine’s was doomed to be lonely, and now it was getting rubbed in.

The individual potted plants had the meanings of the flowers on the tags instead of the list of flowers used like the sets did. He had moved away from the orchids and lilies to other sets. The sign in front of him read, “ _ White chrysanthemums represent loyal love _ ”. Great. Yet another mockery.

Dean was about to leave in frustration, maybe just go home and angrily eat cake while watching whatever came on TV, when something caught his ear. It was coming from the back room. Singing.

He moved a bit closer. The door to the back room was wide open- had it been like that when he came in? Dean couldn’t remember. On the other side of the door frame was a man singing along to the song. It was quiet, but he was clearly enjoying himself. There was a slight smile on his face, but his eyes were focused on the task in front of him. He was arranging flowers in a small plastic vase. When they were finally arranged perfectly, the man gave a soft smile of satisfaction and wrapped the plastic vase in some colorful pink wallpaper. Once that was done, he taped something to it and moved it to the shelf opposite from the working desk. The whole time, Dean couldn’t decide whether to focus on what the man or his projects. Both were equally mesmerizing. He had already finished a second and entirely different bouquet by the end of the chorus, which he had quietly sung along to excitedly. Not a single thing looked out of place.

On the third bouquet, Dean started looking more at the wizard behind the flowers. He was tan, it complimented his hair. His hair was dark and messy. He definitely looked like the kind of person to get so wrapped up in what he was doing that he would completely forget what was happening around him. He hadn’t even noticed Dean was leaning casually against the doorframe. Dean could tell he was focused on only the song and the flowers. Despite smiling, he was squinting in determination. There were tiny wrinkles on the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t tell if they were from the smiling or wrinkling.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the man. Dean had never seen him in his life, but he wanted to get to know him.

“Not a very Valentine’s Day-ey song, huh?” Dean said when the song came to an end. It switched to  _ SexyBack _ .

The man jumped, letting out a “Holy fucking Jesus-” when he heard Dean. The flowers in his hand fell, but he caught it- it was impressive how quickly he reacted. A tad bit pathetic, but Dean wasn’t one to judge right now and it was cute above all. “You scared me.”

“Heh, sorry. Didn’t mean to break your focus.” Dean laughed. The man adjusted a few flowers that had fallen out of place.

“It’s fine, I have a habit of getting too involved in what I’m working on. One time I didn’t even notice that my toaster caught on fire because I was too caught up in making sure all my plants in my living room were watered.” He had said it with a rather serious tone of voice. Dean laughed again anyway. The picture of this guy staring intensely at a potted plant as his kitchen was set aflame gave him one of his first good laughs in quite a long time. When his laughter died down, the man spoke again, “Sorry, what did you say? I was too busy…” He nodded to the shelf of flowers.

“Nah, I just thought that a breakup song was a bit odd on a playlist of lovey-dovey crap for Valentines Day. You seemed pretty into it, though.”

“I don’t control the radio station, I just enjoy what they play.” He shrugged. “Is there anything I can help you with?”  
“Yeah, you got any flowers that represent pettiness?”

This time it was the other man’s turn to laugh. He had a childish laugh, it was very giggly. He didn’t sound like he laughed very often. Maybe he was more of a smiler.

He wiped off his hands and walked past Dean to go over to the plants.

“That’s the one meaning I never expected to get on Valentine’s Day.” he said. “Breaking up with someone, I assume. Quite the day to do it.”

“Close, we broke up early last month. She got pissed because I was so focused on work, or something like that. Lisa was a confusing person sometimes.” Dean leaned on the stand with the cash register as the man looked for his flowers. Maybe he wasn’t listening to Dean. Dean kept talking anyway. “First Valentine’s Day without her…” His voice trailed off as he lost track of what he was saying, too busy thinking about the past two years with Lisa and Ben. They’d been a good two years.  
The man turned around and looked at Dean with pity. Dean caught himself being sad and smiled.

“Figured I’d be an ass and buy flowers. ‘Cept not for her. For myself.”

That seemed to eliminate most of the pity.

“Well, sadly I don’t think we have any flowers for pity. We do have heartbreak and sorrow, but that doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for.”

He went behind the counter and started taking out the dead plants. Some looked revivable, others not so much.

Dean shook his head and changed the topic, curious about who this guy was. He wasn’t even wearing a name tag “So, you new at this place? Never seen you around here.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m the owner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I don’t blame you for not knowing me. I usually handle the orders and numbers, let Meg and Jack handle the customers. I’m Cas.”

He held out a hand. Dean shook it. “Dean.”

“Not a people person?”

“Eh,” Cas shrugged. “I do fine around people. I just… tend to choose not to. Introversion, I guess.”

“So… not a people person.”

“If you want to put it that way, sure.”

“Is Jack, like, your son?”

“I’m not  _ that _ old.” he said sarcastically.

“In my defense he does look like you.”

“So I’ve been told.” How many people actually thought that that it was a frequent question? “His mom Kelly lives next door to me. He seems to suspect that she and I had a fling 16 years ago and out came him, thus the job. I just thought he was a nice kid and his mom was also busy, so even when he was younger I would let him stay here and help with the flowers. Then I started paying him, because child labor is illegal. Kelly seemed happy about it, though.”

“Hmm. Meg?”

“Angsty college student, felt kind of bad for her. Definitely not my daughter.” Cas rolled his eyes. “You got any kids?”

“Lisa had a son, Ben. My brother thinks he’s mine but Lisa swears he’s not so I just take her word for it.”

“Did you feel like he was yours?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “Huh. I guess. He’s a good kid, I know that.”

“I think I found some good flowers for you, they’re a bit wilted, though.” Cas changed the topic again.

“Oh we’re back on that, I guess.”

“There are a few options,” Cas put three small pots of different wilted flowers on the counter. “Daffodils represent rebirth.” Dean stuck a tongue out. So poetic. Not his style. Cas nodded in understanding. 

“We also have gladiolus,” he pointed to pretty pink flowers growing one on top of the other off the stem. “They mean strength and integrity. I just put them in there because they don’t sell as well but they’re one of my favorites.”

Dean chuckled. They were very pretty, he would give them that.

“And there are peonies, which can mean prosperity.”

“This is all so poetic. Damn.” Dean said awkwardly. He was a high school dropout who’d inherited his dad’s mechanic shop, not a poet with three English degrees and one in Art History. “You said the Gladis is your favorite?”

“Gladi _ olu _ s.” Cas corrected. “And yes. They’re one of my favorites. Hard to come by sunflowers in February.”

“I’ll take those ones then.”

“Great,” Cas started checking them out. Dean started making small talk again as he waited.

“Got any plans for tonight?”

Cas shook his head. “Probably just keep selling flowers until I close up shop.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Really? No one special.”

“You said it yourself, I’m not a people person.”

“You seem to be having a perfectly easy time speaking to me.”

“You’re easy to talk to.” he put the flowers in a small brown bag. It had a little text on the bottom saying it was recycled. Cas handed the bag for Dean. Their hands barely brushed, it lingered anyway. “Any plans for yourself?”

Dean shrugged. “Probably watch some crappy rom coms, eat some cereal or ice cream. Maybe find a nice window sill to put this plant on.”

“Sounds good.”

Dean was all ready to leave. He didn’t, though. For some fucking reason, he and Cas just kept staring at each other like idiots.

Finally, Cas cleared his throat.

“Would you like to, uh, come by my apartment. Maybe watch those rom coms and eat that ice cream together. At least it wouldn’t be as lonely.”

“Yes!” Dean said, way too excited. “Uh, I mean… yeah. Yeah that sounds good.”

Dean left the flower shop with a new potted plant in a paper bag, and stapled to it was a number, an address, and a little note saying “ _ See you at 6! Xo Cas _ ”.

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my [tumblr](https://deankeptthecoat.tumblr.com/)! I'm more active there and reblog a lot of other fics I like, too.
> 
> Feel free to bully me if my writing causes you pain. Anything will do. Kudos, comments, reblogs, and anonymous messages about my fics give me the validation I am starved of <33


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